and you are the only thing I will ever need
by viansian
Summary: A collection of Bellarke drabbles under 5,000 words.
1. brave princess (save yourself)

brave princess (save yourself)

Rating: T for language

Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke

Summary: Clarke dreams of a certain someone who tells her that sitting on her lazy ass in a quarantined cell is no longer an option.

* * *

She loses count of the days in that tiny white room.

Sometimes she'll try to communicate with Monty (though she stopped after a few days, the doors were completely soundproof), and sometimes a man dressed in a white suit, helmet completely covering his face, will come in and draw blood. All she sees is whiteness every day. No sun. No stars. No color except for the red blood pulled into the syringe from her forearm and the blue of the painting hung on her wall.

Hours seem like days and days seem like eternities. Or maybe eternities feel like minutes and hours feel like seconds. She really can't tell anymore.

She's dreamed of Finn bursting through the door to save her thousands of times. She's dreamed that he runs in and sweeps her off her feet and kisses her, telling her that everything is going to be all right and that he loves her, and she says it back this time. She says it back because she's lost him far too many times.

But then she wakes up and she realizes that this time she's not getting him back. And she feels like she wants to vomit and cry and scream all at the same time.

For the first few weeks, she'd simply spent her time huddled up on her bed, drifting in and out of consciousness, letting her grief consume her. She didn't know how many infinities passed her by, but sometime between the 60th meal and the Mountain Men cutting off five inches of her hair, she dreams of him.

When she first sees his dark hair, she thinks he's Finn. She thinks it's another dream where he's come to save her, to sweep her up in his arms like he did when she had been sick with the Grounder virus.

But then he turns around and she gasps at the face before her.

"Brave princess?" he sneers. "You're acting like a child. _Pull it together_. How long are you going to wallow in your own misery rather than get up off your ass and keep moving?"

His harsh words shock her into silence and she just stares at him, mouth agape. "You're…you're never in my dreams," she whispers, her voice a breath on the nonexistent wind.

"Well, obviously you need someone to snap you out of whatever spiral you're in," he responds. His eyes are dark and passionate, just the way she remembers them. There's blood smeared across his cheek and bruises around his neck (she never did ask how he got them, he had brushed off the question too quickly) and she finds herself inexplicably wanting to run her hands through his dark, thick hair.

"Spacewalker's been babying you, hasn't he? Telling you he's going to save you?" her co-leader lets out a sigh. "He's not. We're both dead, Clarke. Do you remember what you told me that day when we were making the minefields around camp? Before the storage of food burned down?"

Her eyes move behind him and she thinks back. "No one is coming down to save us," she says softly. The radio silence from the Ark had told her that. The ash and bones that covered their camp told her that Finn wasn't going to come sweeping in either.

Suddenly, she felt Bellamy's hands cupping her face, drawing her gaze back to him. His hands felt rough against her skin and he leaned so close that she could feel his warm breath breeze over her lips. His dark eyes held such intensity that it frightened her, drilling past her exterior and into her soul (her frightened, lost soul).

"Brave princess," he murmured, no mockery in his voice this time. Instead there was an emotion she couldn't quite place, if she hadn't known better, she'd have said that it was pleading, maybe even love. "Brave, brave princess. Save yourself.'

She woke up sweating.

* * *

Some days later, she managed to steal a spoon.

It wasn't much, but it was metal. She found an angle (right behind her headboard) where the cameras could barely see her and couldn't see what she was doing, and in the early hours of the morning (when the lights in her room were off and she prayed that the monitors and guards were asleep) she went to that place and began filing the utensil's handle against the rough metal post of her bed.

She didn't know how long it took (a few days? a month?) but soon enough her tiny spoon was sharp enough to be knife. Every night as she would lie in bed, she would go over the few self-defense moves Bellamy had taught her back at the camp. She had been reluctant to learn them, but he was so persistent it finally got to the point where she had agreed to spar with him just so he would stop annoying her about it.

If only he could see her now.

She bided her time, waiting for the opportune moment. Many times, she thought it was approaching, only for a last second complication to make her hesitate long enough to lose her window.

Finally, one day, the door cracked open and she heard a guard shuffle in. He was dressed completely in white, a mask-helmet hybrid covering his face and he held a plate of food in one hand and a gun in the other. The gun caught her attention. He must be a new recruit because she had quickly realized that it was against their policy to bring weapons into the quarantined cells.

If she could get the gun, she could give them hell to pay.

She knew that it was now or never.

He was leaning down to set the food on her bed when she attacked. Her arm swung back and she threw all of her weight forward, driving the tiny blade towards his neck where she knew his jugular vein would be.

Except at the last second she heard him curse under his breath and catch her arm, stopping her knife inches away. She tried desperately to drive the weapon home, but he was simply too strong. He used her momentum to lean back and throw her off the bed, sending her tumbling to the ground.

Letting out a gasp of pain, she saw stars as her head slammed against the floor. Rolling over, she looked up at the guard, who was now removing his helmet. Her breath was coming in quick wheezes, terror gripping her as she wondered what they would do with her now.

"Well, shit, princess," she heard a familiar voice say. "I guess I should've expected something like that from you. But, come on, Clarke. I taught you that move."

The helmet is gone and she sees the pair of dark brown eyes she had looked into so many times. His hair is sticking out in all directions and a crooked smirk graces his lips as she can't help but let his name pass through hers.

"Bellamy."

She doesn't hesitate as she throws her arms around his shoulders and embraces him. "You're alive," she whispers. "You're alive, oh my God, you're alive."

He lets out a small laugh. "You're not going to get rid of me that easily, princess." He must have known the question she would ask next because he quickly says, "Finn is in the control room. The doors to all the quarantined rooms should be opening in about," he pauses and looks at his watch. "Three…two…one…now."

Right on cue, she hears the sound of seventy-nine doors opening and a of the delinquent's startled shouts. A mischievous smile growing across his face, Bellamy gestures for her to follow him and walks out into the hall.

"All right, rise and shine everyone!" he bellows at the top of his lungs. "There is a class three security breach, this is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill. Come on, everyone, we're busting you out of here."

Heads begin popping out as the Hundred recognize the voice of the leader they were so sure was dead. Excited shouts of "Bellamy!" and "He's alive!" fill the corridor as they all file out behind him, chatting excitedly among themselves.

Following closely behind, Clarke grabs his shoulder causing him to look back and slow down, but not stop. "I hate to rain on your parade," she says so that only he can hear, "But how do you manage to get eighty kids outside of a highly securitized facility in broad daylight? I'm not saying that this was a bad plan…but this was a bad plan."

The roguish smile that had been playing across his features the entire time only grew as he walked, no, as he _strutted_ down the hall towards the exit. He walked through the door and took a sharp left, pulling out a small key-card from his pocket.

"I'd assume that when the Mountain Men have prisoners, which can't be very often, they normally move ninety percent of their weapons to a safe place just in case some of their captives escaped."

Sliding the card into the door, the hatch opened and seventy-nine wide-eyed teenagers peered into the chamber that was revealed. All of the walls were lined with rifles, and boxes of grenades, ammunition, smoke bombs, and every weapon Clarke could even imagine was piled high around the room. She looked around in shock, realizing that they had a legitimate chance of getting out with all the sleeping gas and guns that were before them.

"Let's show them what happens when they mess with the Hundred!" Bellamy yelled, his words jolting the kids into action as they cheered and raced into the weapons room, beginning to grab everything they could carry.

The smirk on his face broke into an all out grin as he turned back and looked at Clarke. "Normally, they'd take precautions. But what the hell, what are a bunch of teenagers going to be able to do?"

For the first time in far too many eternities, she laughs.

**(A/N Mmh. Short one here. It was sort of to fulfill a post on tumblr in which someone wrote my tags on a post *coughgreenfaerieflycough* *coughgofollowhercough* and it then proceeded to get a bunch of notes. :D Anyways, reviews are welcome!)**


	2. but it won't be the same

it's not the same (without you here)

Rating: T

Summary: Clarke discovers that Bellamy gave one last order to Miller before he died. (Set post-season finale, ignoring the whole Mountain Men fiasco because I can.)

Title: Other Side by Pearl Jam

She was sure she was as good as dead.

With a three-hundred pound Ground running at her, spear aimed at her heart and no weapon of her own to defend herself with, she didn't really see a way she could get out alive.

The Grounder was only a few feet away from her when she heard the sickening sound of flesh being ripped apart and she saw a sword protrude out of his chest.

As he fell to the ground, a dark skinned boy wearing a beanie stood from a kneeling position, holding a sword dripping with blood in his hand. For a moment, Clarke just gaped at Miller, wondering a.) why saving her life seemed to be a new hobby of his, and b.) how he had even known where she was in the first place.

Kneeling down, her second-in-command wiped his sword on the grass before saying, "We should head back to camp."

They did. And both of them made a point not to speak of the incident.

By the time they made it back, night had fallen and the sun's light had long since died behind the trees. Monty and Jasper must have made a new batch of moonshine because the entire camp was abuzz with noise and drunken teenagers. Maybe it was good for all of them to be carefree for a few hours. Almost a week had passed since they had fought off the Grounders, and barely a smile had been cracked after that day.

As soon as they stepped foot into camp, Clarke noticed something change behind Miller's eyes and his jaw tightened. She was about to ask him what was wrong when he suddenly disappeared into the sea of bodies swarming around the camp.

He hadn't been the same since Bellamy died.

But then again, neither had she.

The light of the fire reminded her of him for some reason. Maybe it was all the conversations they had around that very fire in the dead of night, when everyone else was sleeping. She remembered the first night, the night after they had gone to the bunker. She had stayed up with him, cleaning guns until the early hours of the morning, long after the other delinquents who had been helping them had gone to sleep. She remembered talking about his sister, her father, the Grounders, Jaha, the people on the Ark, and just about everything under the moon. The thought of that night made her heart ache for his company.

She found that she had wandered over towards the edge of camp, too lost in her own thoughts to realize that she had been followed. One second, her mind had been on Bellamy and how much she missed him, and the next she was pressed against the side of the drop ship's metal shell, breath that smelled strongly of whiskey being blown in her face.

"Hey, princess," a boy breathed into her ear. His forearm was pressed against her throat, making it difficult to breathe and she shuddered at the nickname. It sounded distorted, twisted and insulting, not the way that Bellamy used to say it. "You wanna have some fun?"

"I think I'm good," she managed to choke out, the weight against her through increasing slightly.

His hand that wasn't holding her began to wander and she tried to squirm free. "Come on," he purred. "Your king isn't here to protect you anymore. Besides, I think a slut like you would want it."

She tried to fight him, but her punches were weak as her vision began to tunnel due to the fact he cutting off her supply of oxygen. She heard his laughter, and he continued to laugh until the weight suddenly disappeared from her throat and she let out a gasp, falling to the ground.

Her vision began to clear, and she looked up to see Miller on top of the boy, a look of fury in his eyes as he repeatedly punched her would-be rapist in the face.

"Don't you touch her," he yelled, a sort of rage in his voice that she had only ever heard in Bellamy's before. "Don't. You. Ever. Fucking. Touch. Her. Again!" He accented each word with a punch.

Clarke just sat there in shock for a couple seconds before she managed to snap herself out of it. Running towards Miller, she grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him off of the now unconscious boy.

"Miller," she whispered. Then a little bit louder, she said, "Miller, stop!"

When he looked at her, his eyes were wild and almost unrecognizable. The two of them stayed frozen for a moment, her blue eyes staring into his wild brown ones. Then he ripped himself away and all but ran out of camp.

What could she do but run after him?

She finally caught up to him near the edge of the cliff where Charlotte jumped. He was sitting on the edge, staring up into the sky at the stars. She stopped in her tracks and didn't dare move.

He snorted. "I'm not going to jump, Clarke."

Trying to disguise her small sigh of relief, she walked forward and sat next to him, her feet dangling over the ledge. They sat in silence for what seems like hours, just staring up at the stars (she briefly wondered which one the Ark could be).

When she finally gathered the courage to speak, she struggled not to stumble over her words. "What are you doing, Miller?" her voice is much softer than she'd like it to be. "Not letting me patrol, saving me from the Grounder, checking to see if I need help with anything, constantly protecting me…"

His answer was not what she expected. "I follow orders," he said miserably. "It's all I've done, it's all I've ever known. Even back on the Ark, I was never in charge of anything. All I ever did was follow orders."

Her mind flashed back to what Bellamy had said when he was planning to run away. "Keep Miller close," were his words. "The others listen to him." She had commented that he seemed to trust him. At the time, Bellamy had just brushed it off, but she knew better. She knew that if a hard decision ever had to be made, Miller was the only person (besides herself of course) that Bellamy would trust to make it. Miller was the only one he would order to do an important job because he was the only one he trusted to do it right.

A blossom of panic bloomed in her chest as she realized what that important job might have been, as she realized what order he might have given that would be much easier to carry out if Miller was constantly close to her. "Miller," she whispered, trying to calm her pounding heart. "Give me a straight answer." He didn't answer and she asked again, this time adding, "that's an order" onto it. When his mouth stayed firmly shut she finally lost herself in her hysteria, all of the fear and misery of losing the two boys that mattered most to her seep into her voice as she yelled, "Why are you protecting me?"

_ "Because he asked me to, damn it!"_

He yelled his answer and her heart stopped beating in her chest.

There is a moment of fragile silence between them before he buried his face in his hands and murmured, "In the foxhole, the night the Grounders attacked, he told me that if he didn't get out alive, I was supposed to protect you at all costs."

Looking up at her, Clarke can see all the guilt and pain in the boy's eyes as he continued, "He pretended it was a 'just-in-case' request, but the way he asked it…like…like it was his dying wish or something… I asked him what the hell he was planning and he said that he had to save as many kids as he could, some bullshit about atoning for his sins or something. When the Grounders were marching towards our foxhole, he told me to go." The tears begin to well up in his eyes and the look on his face is so tormented, Clarke can feel her still stationary heart shatter. "He ordered me to survive, to survive and protect you and to forget about him. It was the last thing he wanted and for the first time in my life, I just can't do it right."

She is trying to stop herself from shaking. She had considered Bellamy a friend, but this? This was more than she ever would've expected from him. That he would be willing to sacrifice himself to save as many kids as possible. That he would order someone to protect her.

Suddenly, it all came together in her mind. During the battle, when she had run out of the drop ship, she had yelled at Bellamy to run away, to run towards safety, but instead he had picked up a gun and run straight back into the battle. And it was only after Bellamy was obviously not going to stop fighting that Miller pulled her away to safety. She felt a painfully sharp surge of both love and hate for her dark-haired co-leader.

"When that boy attacked me," Clarke finally said, referring to earlier that night, "he said, 'Your king isn't here to protect you anymore'. What did he mean, Miller?"

A humorless chuckle escaped him. "You see, I can't do my job right because you know. You always _know_. And yet, somehow when Bellamy was doing it, defending you that is, you never seemed to pick up on it."

In that moment, she swore that Earth's oxygen supply just ran out because her lung collapse on themselves and she _can't fucking breathe._

"What?" she manages to choke out.

This time he lets out a bark of laughter. "He protected you. If anyone tried to touch you…well lets just say it was never pretty. There were a couple of particularly nasty incidents he made me promise never to speak of. Sometimes I wondered what he would do if he had to chose between you and Octavia. I think it could've gone either way."

"Don't be ridiculous."

He gives her a twist of his lips in an attempt to smile. It looked painful. "Have I ever been ridiculous before, Clarke?"

She sits there for an eternity, trying to understand the information just given to her. Bellamy Blake, protecting her. Bellamy Blake fighting off people who wanted to hurt her. Bellamy Blake _caring_ about her. For some reason, the thought both sends shivers down her spine and gives her a feeling of butterflies in her stomach.

"Did he love me?" she asked softly, half hoping he heard her, half hoping he didn't. It's a question she's terrified of and she didn't know what possessed her to ask it. If he didn't…she couldn't explain the way her heart seemed to ache at the thought. And if he did, she felt her stomach turned over itself at the realization that she never told him how much he meant to her. Either answer frightened her more than any Grounder or radioactive beast could.

"I asked him once," Miller answered. "He told me to, and I quote, 'mind my own fucking business'. But he never denied it." After a while he said, "And even if he didn't, he still cared about you, I'd say more than anyone else on earth. I mean, isn't that enough?"

_Yes,_ she thought to herself._ Yes, it is._ But she didn't say it out loud.

After a while, she found her voice long enough to say, "Miller?"

He looked at her, tears he had not bothered to wipe away staining his face (she is relatively certain hers did not look much better). "Yeah?" he replies.

"You're doing all right."

He didn't answer, but she could see the gratitude in his eyes.

Four days later, when a dead man with dark hair walks into their camp, Miller feels the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders.

Clarke does not hesitate to run into his arms and kiss him.

And Bellamy Blake does not hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist, pull her close, and tell her that he's never going to leave her again.

Maybe they can find a happy ending on Earth after all.


	3. scorching

scorching

Rating: K

Summary: The first time he saw her he felt: everything will burn.

* * *

The first time he saw her he felt: everything will burn.

She stands there, so strong and proud, telling him that he _can't_open the door to the drop ship because for all they know the air is toxic and will kill them all. He scoffs, mocking this girl who doesn't seem to know that they were sent down to die anyway; it doesn't matter if it's by the air or radiation or whatever monsters lurk in the savage place their ancestors once called home. She does not speak again, but he looks at her and sees her hesitation, sees that she wants to.

He knows from that moment that things will not go easily with this girl.

He knows that everything will burn.

When she comes back from Mount Weather and tells the Hundred they can't take off their bracelets, he knows that things will not go as he planned. She is persuasive, but his silver tongue is much more captivating than her pleading honesty.

He tells them they're not criminals (they are). He tells them that they are controlling their own destiny (they aren't, he is). And as he turns away, he looks at her and feels her locking with his.

Her grey eyes give off a heat he fears, a heat that he knows can change everything.

That night he dreams of burning. It is not the first time. It will not be the last either. And as he burns, as he feels the flames licking against his skin, he looks into the fire and he sees a pair of grey eyes. He wakes up in a cold sweat.

Later she tells him to follow her as they go to rescue a boy who's as good as dead already.

He doesn't know why he does.

He doesn't know why he catches her or why the feeling of her fingertips wrapped around his wrist seems to set his veins alight. He doesn't know why he hold onto her like she is the only thing keeping him alive rather than simply letting go and watching this girl who will destroy everything fall to her death. He knows if she lives, everything will burn.

But then again his dreams of fire have always been painfully pleasurable.

It isn't until Atom that he realizes she is stronger than she seems.

It isn't until he watches the meteor shower of bodies from the Ark that he realizes he is weaker than he seems.

And it isn't until they capture the Grounder that he realizes that she makes him stronger. It isn't until then that he realizes the full extent of the affect she has on him. It isn't until then that he realizes she isn't the pure, perfect angel Spacewalker makes her out to be. No, she had her own darkness as well, but she hides it, locks it away in fear that if she lets it out, it will destroy her.

She doesn't realize that it's not her that will burn. It's everyone else.

It isn't until they capture the Grounder that he realizes she can set him on fire.

He strikes the Grounder again, but stops, looking at her. He sees her shaking as she attempt to control the darkness inside of her, to hold it back just enough so that her light only becomes dim, not dark. He sees her struggling, and for some inexplicable reason, he can't stand it. He offers her a way out, but she doesn't take it. She tells him to continue.

When she suddenly tells him to stop and looks as if she's going to vomit, he lashes out, hating the darkness within him, the cold that he feels chill his soul. "Do you want him to live or not?" he snaps, and instantly regrets his words, watching her features harden as a new resolve washes over her.

"Do it."

She gives him a nod, and with that one gesture, he feels his blood begin to boil as something animalistic begins to burn in his belly. He feels his skin crawling off of his body as he lets go and becomes something inhuman, something merciless and cruel. He lets the darkness inside of him take control and he drives the stake through the Grounders hand. The groan of pain makes his heart beat faster and in some dark, twisted recess of his mind, he feels a thrum of excitement and pleasure at being the cause of such pain.

He feels nauseous.

He feels free.

He feels as if he is on fire.

He comforts her afterwards. He tells her that who they are, and who they need to be to survive are very different things. He knows why he does it, but he refuses to admit it to himself, denying the very reason he suddenly feels the need to make sure the girl who has caused him so much trouble will be all right.

It's because he wants to feel her fire again. He wants to feel it more than anything else in the world and he knows that it will destroy him.

Three days later she returns the favor outside of an abandoned bunker, the body of a traitor delinquent with a dud bullet in his neck lying a few feet away. When he comforted her, he did it because he was selfish, because he wanted to be set ablaze.

He wonders if she's doing this because she wants to taste his darkness once more.

He finds himself trying to find her fire on his own, trying to draw it out. In their fights and their disagreements, he lives for the feeling of heat coursing throughout his body, waking him up to every sensation as he feels her scorch him with her every touch, every glance and every word. He pushes her to let go, to become the flames inside of her.

As she walks tall and proud towards the Grounder princess on the bridge during their failed peace meeting, he sees all that she can be and for a moment, it frightens him.

She can be more than a candle, more than a light in his darkness.

She can be a forest fire.

Hell, she can be an inferno.

And she'll devour everything in her path.

But when the bomb on the bridge explodes, he finally realizes that he couldn't have begun to imagine what he's released. He watches as she looks up at the cloud of smoke, skin still pale and sickly from the virus and her eyes grey like the ash flying in the sky. She speaks and her words haunt his dreams.

"I am become death, destroyer of worlds."

She has become death, destroyer of worlds.

She will burn everything.

God above, what has he done?

Murphy hangs him and he feels as if it is reckoning for his sins. He feels as if this is his punishment for unleashing a fire such as her on the world. The noose tightens around his neck and he decides that there are worse punishments than death.

He should have known that oblivion would be too kind of a sentence for him to receive.

His princess comes back to him, and from the second she runs into camp, he knows something is different about her. She looks like the darkness inside her is stronger, but the light inside her is brighter as well. She looks as if she's done the unthinkable and does not regret it. She looks like in the span of a few short hours, she has become more than she has ever been before.

As they stand in the drop ship, wondering how they hell they're going to survive this retribution of the Grounders, she speaks.

"I don't want to build a bomb. I want to blast off."

The order that she is brings balance to his chaos. She is light where he is darkness, fire where he is ice, kindness where he is cruelty. But it's times like these that he sees her own anarchy leaking from between the seams of her skin, crawling out from under her nails and radiating from her mouth as if her lungs were infested with mayhem and every breath she breathes is destruction. He sees her own chaos mix with her order and god, it looks unholy. It looks like blood. It looks like war.

It looks like fire.

And he watches as the rest of the Hundred look to her and are set ablaze the same way he was the night they tortured the Grounder; the night she scorched him and turned his blood to flames.

He feels pain as the Grounder's fist connects with his stomach. He feels heat as he hears her call his name. She tells him to run, to come to safety, but he doesn't. He is a soldier, a leader, a protector and a man who has lost everything but himself. He lets the fire beneath his skin consume him.

He watches as she pulls back, as Miller drags her towards the drop ship. He watches as the door closes and sees heartbreak in those eyes that are grey like ash, like the sea. He remembers the first time he saw her and felt everything would burn. He remembers the first time they spoke, arguing just like they always do, the first time he opened the door and the sun streamed through the hatch blinding them all. As she closes the hatch and he sees her for the last time, he remembers the first time he saw her.

And then everything burns.

**(A/N Wow, I actually kind of like this one. It's meant to be more of a drabble than anything else. Unbetaed (I felt like ****blackravenswing**** could use a little surprise) so sorry for any grammar mistakes and/or typos. Oh, and inspired by ****this ****tumblr post ( /OJLPLN). Feedback is appreciated! Thanks for reading!)**


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